EVENT: HERE THERE BE MONSTERS

[initiatesnpc]

Date & Time: October 24 - October 31
Location: Throughout Exsilium
Characters: ALL; tag yourselves in
Summary: The Transports return from their mission to find the island crawling with monsters.
Warnings: Violence, possibly injuries (notify a mod if there's cause to add a particular warning!)

The Transports return from their mission to Medieval Russia, but the Initiative Hold is eerily deserted. Normally, their would be a number of Initiative personnel prepared to meet the Transports at the end of their mission for debriefing.

Instead, there is only silence.

That is, until a distant thumping sound can be heard. It is growing closer, and suddenly the beast is bursting into the room. It lets out a roar and charges. Within minutes, it is easily defeated, but damage has already been done -- it collided with the Transporter machine, which is now making a low fizzling sound and lets off a couple sparks. The commotion is enough to draw the attention of the few remaining Initiative personnel who still inhabit the Hold, who arrive immediately afterwards. They are able to tell the Transports two things: that the machine is broken and currently unable to sent anyone back in time, and that the island has been overrun with aggressive, mutated beasts sent by the United Earth. They have been under siege for months, with the island's population reduced to a mere fraction of what it had once been.

Comments

[northrend]

Arthas is no fool. He had already dealt with a few combatants today, most of them who couldn't or wouldn't stand up to him once he had made his appearance. There were always more monsters were those came from, but that would require a trip back to the outer reaches -- a waste of time. So to say he was pleased that Lucifer had peeled through a chunk of his army in so little time would be incorrect.

The compliment helps to still his anger, though Lucifer will find Arthas frowning softly regardless. There's something different about this one. He can feel the divinity oozing off him in an odd fashion, not in a way that makes him uncomfortable. It was rare for those of the holy sect to make him uncomfortable these days -- he had grown in power to a level that only someone powerful enough (like Uther) could radiate Light enough to make his skin crawl.

This...wasn't Light. It was something more familiar. Almost, dare he say, equal to the magic that had forged Frostmourne. He's not sure if he likes it.

"Hardly, when you lay waste to their numbers so I must spend time cultivating more," he replies, somewhat bitter though not overly hostle. This creature doesn't appear to be interested in killing him, merely his vassals in the name of sport. "You are?"

[lovesgod]

Arthas' bitterness makes him chuckle a little, and he slides the weapon back in the sheath, folding his hands across his chest. "Well, that doesn't seem to be very difficult, so forgive me if I've terribly inconvenienced you."

From the tone, it's possible he may not actually care. "I'm Lucifer. I was intrigued by your ability to seemingly create an entire army out of corpses. Usually that's not something most folks are capable of."

[northrend]

"Not terribly. Though enough to aggrieve me," he admits gently, adjusting one of his gauntlets once Lucifer stows his weapons away. Arthas doesn't sheath Frostmourne, but the runeblade is lowered.

"It isn't," Arthas comments, taking a moment to let his anger simmer. He's not sure if he should be taking this guy seriously, or if he's being mocked. Perhaps using his actual name to introduce himself, instead of his title, will gain a reaction. It'd worked a few times so far. "...Arthas."

[lovesgod]

"Oh, well, you shouldn't be such a difficult man - or, if that's not the right pronoun, please let me know - to get to next time. If they hadn't been in my way, they might have been ok."

He might actually be serious that time. Either way, he looks over his shoulder to the remainder of the slavering hounds, considering. "Arthas," he says to himself, rolling the name over in his mouth. It's a good name. "It's nice to meet you, I think."

Then, his eyes drop, studying Frostmourne. It's dark and cold all on it's own, icy to his attuned senses. There's a connection here, but he can't figure out exactly what the specifications are. "Nice sword. You make it?"

[northrend]

"Man". If only he knew. There's no point in debating semantics, so he doesn't. The fact that Lucifer isn't turning tail and running or raising a sword to him promises good things -- or perhaps speaks of arrogance. He's not sure yet.

When his eyes fall to Frostmourne, he is very aware of it, and his grip tightens a little. He's very possessive of the sword -- it doesn't have a hold on his power, having lent it to him already, but it is a very large extension of it.

"I did not," he admits, turning the runeblade in his hand. "Frostmourne was won. Ultimately forged for my hand by fate, though offered to many a traveler, I expect."

[lovesgod]

"Man it is."

His lip quirks as Arthas' fingers tighten around the weapon. Possessive, this one is. But the blade does have some kind of connection to him, so he can't really hold it against the undead creature. Plus, it's obviously a weapon of incredible power. Certainly the kind any sensible type would hunger for. But there'd be time for that in the future, maybe. For now, step by step way the way to go.

"Frostmourne." The weapon, it must have been. A suitably dreary name for a weapon cold to the touch. Then, a slight side. "Fate has it's way of giving us what should be ours, even if it takes time," he says, looking back out to the undead army, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "It's not always fair, but it seems to always work out the way it should, even with the unexpected bumps and bruises."